


Resentment

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anger Management, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:44:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A short drabble of what Sasuke's lonesome return to Konoha.





	Resentment

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a really small drabble of me practicing writing for the fandom :)

They thought he was crazy, someone to be overlooked; ignored.

Sasuke Uchiha brought his strong fist down onto the small wooden table, vibrations from the blow causing an innocent vase that had been resting on the table to crash onto the ground and shatter.

His face was pale and drawn; the dark circles under his appeared permanent and stood out against his ivory skin. Raven hair was limp and lacked its usual volume, sticking to his sweaty face messily. His prominent good looks had become ravaged and subdued; he was too skinny, too pale, and too dark.

His entire body was visibly shaking as he leaned against the table, although it was obvious that it was not caused by the cold. He longed to be able to sit through one fucking day without feeling so goddamn guilty, his mind filled with regret for things that could never be changed.

Broken glass was littered across the cold hard tiles; Sasuke didn't bother to avoid the mess, glass shards stabbing mercilessly into his bloody feet.

He stumbled over towards the nearest chair, slumping tiredly onto the seat, he brought the bottle of sake towards his mouth and took another long gulp of much needed alcohol, throwing the empty bottle onto the floor when it was finished, he didn't even flinch at the sound of it breaking.

The villagers had thought so much of him at first; everyone had such high hopes for the last Uchiha. He had money, good looks, and a mysterious air that drew people to him, what could have gone wrong?

Sasuke gritted his teeth and shoved his hands into his long spiky hair, almost feeling like ripping out the raven black locks in stress. His onyx eyes were shut tightly as he slammed his head into the table angrily, uncaring that a large red lump would form in that spot over night.

He pushed himself out of the chair and glanced around the room, he wasn't drunk enough yet, he could still think. That would soon be fixed.

He stumbled his way over to the kitchen to grab some more alcohol, accidentally tripping over the empty that he had thrown previously. Was he drunk? Sasuke didn't know anymore, he was too angry and had drunk too many bottles than he could remember.

"Fuck" he swore whilst rummaging through his fridge, "there isn't any more" He finished lamely when he realized that there wasn't anymore alcohol left. It was funny how he had never, ever, been an alcoholic until he returned back to Konoha, he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

He moved his bony hand so it rested against his pale stomach, groaning as the feeling of nausea strengthened, he buried his face in his other hand, attempting to run to the bathroom, it was only a matter of time before he threw up in a place he shouldn't.

The Uchiha pushed his way past the wreck of a place he called a house, clothes and belongings thrown messily all around the room, he reached out to the stained wall to steady himself when he tripped on a shirt he'd last worn weeks ago.

He resumed his journey to the toilet and shoved open the door, dropping to his knees and letting all the alcohol and food he had consumed to come back out his mouth in the form of vomit.

Sasuke had lost almost everything; his family, his home, his friends, and now he was slowly losing his life, his health had disappeared long ago.

He slumped against the toilet seat when his stomach had finally succeeded in emptying itself; his eyes were closed as he allowed himself to relax for a moment under the harsh fluorescent lighting. The steady drip of the leaking tap echoed throughout the dingy bathroom for what seemed like ages, the black haired 17 year old pushed himself to his feet with a defeated groan and turned the tap on to rinse his dirty mouth, relishing the feel of the soothing cold water.

He glanced at his gaunt reflection in the mirror, turning away sharply at the disgusting excuse for a man that stared back at him. He was almost glad that he hadn't looked in the mirror for weeks; he wouldn't have been able to stand seeing that pathetic stranger every single fucking day, gazing back into his own identical eyes. He just wanted to disappear, to never see the sorry existence in the mirror again.

There are times when you can't run away.


End file.
